


A Few Extra Variables

by DrBeak1669



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:48:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24949465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrBeak1669/pseuds/DrBeak1669
Summary: An old project that never really went anywhere, with only one character actually finished. Of course, I had thought of returning to it, and so I am posting it here to see if it gains any traction. This was originally drafted a year ago.





	A Few Extra Variables

_ Cienno Sinoper _

Heavy boots fall to the muddy ground of Mistral swamplands, heels digging as they race with haste across the darkened land of dense foliage in the dead of night. The fractured moon above leads the way towards salvation, as a cloaked figure rushes through the marshes without looking back. Wild, unkempt rust-orange hair waves underneath a hood with every step underneath the hood of the cloak, shining bright like polished metal from moonbeams high above. Sleepy, turquoise eyes dart around, paradoxically alert of surroundings behind glasses like a thick transparent shield. The cloak flaps about, the cape flapping about as wind trails behind like turbulence. Labored breaths escape from an agape mouth. Wearily the young man moves quickly, the familiar burn in his legs doing little to dissuade him from moving faster. 

His name was Cienno Sinoper. And he had to get to Beacon Academy. It was a fallback, when things went wrong and he needed his escape. And what better place than one of the prestigious Huntsman academies, especially one that was not located in Mistral and put distance between him and his pursuers. After all, they wouldn’t think of following him across all of Remnant, even if they were desperate for it.

Crashing through branches, his salvation came into view; Oedipus, a small town settled into the mountainous regions. The trip to Oedipus from Wind Path isn’t lengthy, but for the runner, it felt like a journey through Hell. Wind Path was always a congregation for thieves and vagrants alike — home to him for a short time, but no longer. This is his one step towards freedom, as Oedipus is one of the few stops along the Argus Limited. And from Argus, his salvation. A trek through Atlas towards Vale.

The road ahead led the way, the same turquoise eyes gazing following it’s direction, in conjunction with his legs, as if it were laced with precious gold. Oedipus was small and homey, a stark juxtaposition to Wind Path. Where Oedipus invited, Wind Path repealed. And this vagabond accepted it eagerly. Through the gates, he strode forwards towards the Argus Limited station, occasionally checking his back. Cienno was nervous, sweat beginning to break.

The streets were cold and dead at night. Unsurprising to say the least. But, even then there were the smattering of people that traveled at night, and each minded their own business — a good sign. That meant nobody would question you here. Even if a few heads turned, nobody would simply approach you. The cloaked Cienno walked briskly down the cobblestone path, surrounded by tall buildings. Alleyways and secluded nooks were an abundant resource; a gladdening sight, which warranted a slight and hidden smile from Cienno underneath the hood of his cloak. A place to hide, if necessary, and shortcuts towards his destination. The station to the Argus Limited should be near the base of the mountain. And this small path will bring him closer.

The alleyway was claustrophobic. The walls pressed together, like the longest doorway of stone. It was dark, depraved of the torn celestial light above. The scurrying of rats along the walls joined the crunching of boots on loose stones, dust and debris that had eroded from the streets. Perhaps 30ft long, it was of sizable length between the two unnamed buildings. What was supposed to be easy became much more difficult. As Cienno passed through the alley, his heartbeat spiked slightly; a womanly silhouette had presented herself, a shapely figure that had been a sight he had dreaded to see. And, much less, the fire that burned within her eyes. They seemed to glow brightly within the blackened path, ferocious amber that bore equally-colored embers of cruelty. The bathing light showed the face of Death herself — a sweet sadistic smile settled into flawless skin and draped with hair like an eclipse.

Cienno Sinoper stood in the middle of an alleyway, and faced off against Cinder Fall.

A slight tinge of fear nestled within his mind reacted. Slowly did the shrouded rover, in accordance, move his hand into his cover. A sudden pull from Cinder’s lip up into a threatening smirk stops him, as well as the sound of a revolver’s hammer. He locked up, no movement save for the slow rising of his hands, which were clad in leather gloves that reached his elbows. His face soured at the sight of Cinder’s ego adorning her face of beauty.

“You shouldn’t carry something so priceless at night.” Cinder said. A mocha-colored hand reached from behind her victim’s back and dug inside his cloak. The grasping hand, wrapped by a fingerless glove, clung onto something and proceeded to pull it out — a leather bound notebook. The hand reeled back as Cienno's captor walked around him. Even in the dim light, the person was unmistakable: a topping of mint-green hair in a straight fringe with long locks in the back, and red eyes. Emerald Sustrai, who was originally a partner in crime once when both had been subjected to the same course of life. The muzzle of Emerald’s weapon — Thief’s Respite he remembered — pointed directly towards his head as she kept her gaze at attention. Nevermind the fact that she held what could be considered her only ‘friend’ in life at gunpoint. 

“It would be… unfortunate if it were to be swiped by a thief.” Cinder finished her earlier taunt. 

Growling with indignation, Cienno glared. He was bewitched at Emerald’s action. His former partner in green stepped forward towards her mistress, who sauntered towards her pion with ego. She reveled in his failure in escaping with something priceless. And it expanded tenfold when the notebook crashed into her palms. Her smirked mouth stretched more as she openly held the notebook towards him, and turned the first pages. “And here, you thought you could escape with my notes on… cabbage soup?” 

Indeed, the first few pages — written in flowery handwriting not unlike Cinder’s but as well not her own — was an intricately detailed recipe for cabbage soup. The murderous pyromancer only spent an occasion to, rather amusingly, gaze back and forth from the notebook to her thief and back again. Her befuddled response, a lapse in thought, was brought to an end by only the quietest snort from Cienno. 

That slight snicker grew in audio, turning into a low laugh of mischief and mockery; Cinder’s spoiled and vile soul flitted in amounting anger at a trick such as this. The notebook in her hand vanished into fine ash from her intense rage. 

“Where is it?” She asked with the intensity of an open gate to Hell. Cienno continued to smirk at her, the turns having now been tabled like a game of Poker; they both showed their hand, and his was better. Cienno was tempting fate. He knew one of these days it would kill him — when it did, he'd smile in Death’s face. And for him, it didn’t look like Cinder Fall. The fear was slightly gone, now that enough time has passed for the freshly-oiled gears in his head to turn ever forwards. 

“Why would I tell you?” He taunted. Cienno’s voice was a mix of accents — not difficult to understand, but had a sort of exotic addition to it that was not unlike eating raw honey: you either love it plenty or deeply loathe it. And Cinder had come to loathe his voice since the day they met; when they had become personal enemies.

The handler of Hell’s flames reached onto a handle situated into her back, revealing a bladed bow that was joined at the grip and arrow rest. She held her hand as if to notch an arrow, and from nowhere did she wield a fragile arrow made of glass into existence. The drawstring pulled back to a threatening length. And the inclusion of Emerald had added more weight to that threat as she pulled a twin revolver. An indifferent click of Cienno’s tongue sounded throughout the alleyway. 

“Yes, you make a rather good point.” He said in his casual, smarmy tone. “So, here’s my counter-offer.”

Equally as sudden as Cinder’s threat, Cienno took to the air and rose up to the roof of the adjacent buildings; he had channeled his Aura into his legs and propelled himself upwards towards the roof above. His boots touched the flat roof with a hard  _ ‘click’ _ , and immediately took off in a sprint. His cloak fluttered about with each stride. As he reached the end of the rooftop, an arrow flew by, the air cutting around and whistling slightly at the sharpness of the glass. It had missed his head by mere inches; a lucky break. But there was no time to spare contemplating; Cienno simply kept going, no time to dwell on minor miracles.

A game of cat and mouse began along the rooftops; Cinder and Emerald gave relentless chase along, trailing the path of their cloaked target. Each time they pelted him with several shots — but, even then, luck could only take you so much. The Argus Limited was only a few buildings ahead, a few vaults and jumps to safety. But, a stinging pain quickly snaked up his ankle. An arrow of darkened glass dug itself into his foot, causing him to trip and fall. He easily reached down and yanked it, letting his Aura take the job at stitching the wound. His Aura may not be as powerful as an average Huntsman’s, but it works fast as compensation. However, that didn’t detract from his current scenario; Cinder notched another arrow, as Emerald loaded more Dust ammo into her cylinders. 

Things were getting serious, and he’d rather leave now and make his journey out of Mistral to Atlas than stay and risk his life being hunted down till the next dawn. And so, he did what he had to do; reaching into his cloak, he pulled and unleashed his might. Cinder let loose her arrow, and watched it shatter with the wind. A long chain rang through her ears, and a heavy blunt mace’s head smashed into her abdomen, knocking the wind out of her in surprise. Emerald cracked three fast shots, her left hand fanning the hammer as she held one with the right hand. To her shock, the chain blocked each bullet. She never knew he could skillfully use his weapon like that, even when their weapons were wrought of the same iron..

She was left in a state of shellshock as the elongated flail-like whip smashed her with a lashing crack to the side of the head, launching her towards the edge. She tumbled onto the rooftop, nearing closer to the edge but never going over. Cienno retracted the chain back to its handle: a sword-like grip with a pommel and cross guard shaped into impromptu spikes, making it into a stake. He had no intentions to engage in a fight, and merely turned to continue on his path. Leaps and bounds ahead now, Cinder and Emerald recovered from the surprise attack. No lasting wounds, not even extensive damage to their Aura, but it did deprive them of some time to catch up. It was forceful and plenty of pain, certainly nothing to scoff at. But, they were closer to failing their objective.

But still did they relentlessly pursue, intent without remorse. Cinder dug into a secret pouch underneath her crimson dress. From it, she retrieved a glowing shard of Dust, a faint orange glow that reeks of sulfur and pleasingly stings the hand in warmth. The golden embroidery of her dress flared, a ball of fire ready to be dispensed. While the dress itself held enough Dust for cheap prestidigitation effects, Dust would be needed for true power.

A few buildings more and both would reach their objectives. Cienno leapt effortlessly across gaps to the dark and empty streets below. While Cinder kept her eye towards her thief. She would be picking her prize from his charred corpse, and leave it as a simple accident involving Thermal Dust. 

Time seemed to dilate. The Argus Limited — an elongated tube of metal floating atop magnets, was ready to depart; it was slowly picking up speed. Cienno, from a building not too far away, jumped towards the roof of a cabin, a hatch placed neatly in the center. Cinder was behind him, her arm stretched out as raging fire spilled from her fingers. A blazing sphere of searing plasma soared, shedding light brightly as it trailed towards the runner. And, from seconds that lasted hours, they collided. Where Cienno has been, there was suddenly fire and burning. Cinder watched on as the heap of burning tinder fell down onto the platform, soliciting shocked gasps and murmurs.

The pyromancer smiled madly; she had won. As unfortunate as it may be, the notebook went with him; not that it matters much. So long as that information didn’t become widespread, it was well. And from what it looked like, it would stay that way. That was, until she looked past the heap of burning ashes. 

A spike of disbelief, rage, and bruising of the ego drove itself into her head. Standing on the roof of the train cabin, facing towards her, is the unscathed body of Cienno Sinoper, except now having shed his cloak mirage. His back was towards Cinder, a deep maroon overcoat with flowing coattails. His well-shaped, athletic legs that were covered in fitting brown trousers that were held up by a leather belt which had his chain whip and a leather pouch clipped onto it. The coat sported a popped-out collar that was comically larger than average. On the back of the coat, displayed bravely, was a cross emblem, adorned with bat wings splayed out and pointed downwards. Cienno swiveled his head back over his shoulder, his smug grin a charming display of teeth. He held up his hand to his forehead in a two-finger salute, flicking his hand away. 

“Farewell! Better luck next time!” He cried out in his smarmy, exotic voice. He took a while to look upon the view of Oedipus as it continually faded from view, the train beginning a turn around the bend of a mountain.

He spared no time to leave the nipping cold now, due to no longer having his cloak. And having an open collar with an even more open button-up shirt underneath didn’t help either. With a lousy pull of the hatch, getting in wasn’t difficult. Cienno was free to roam easily and luxuriously. And for this, it was the perfect opportunity to crack open the notebook Cinder so desperately wanted. Reaching with the leather pouch situated onto his belt, he pulled from it a leather notebook. Engraved onto the front cover was Cinder’s own emblem, two high-heeled glass slippers roughly in the shape of a heart. He unwrapped it from its locking string, and began to read its contents. A name, and a location. That location being somewhere near Vale. The name, however, brought the sleepy, turquoise eyes from half-lidded to narrowed. The name.

_ ‘Amber? Who is she?’ _

The best way to answer that is to make the trip himself. If Cienno wanted to find out more, he’ll have to do it himself. It wouldn’t be the first time, and more importantly, it involved Cinder and Emerald.

Looks like Beacon isn’t the only thing to find in Vale.


End file.
